


Clint & Casey vs the CIA

by Batfink



Category: Chuck (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Casual Sex, Chuck Bartowski Cameo, Clint Barton is Aaron Cross, Clint has no Wife, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Phil Coulson deserves a medal, Rare Pairings, Undercover As Gay, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 22:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batfink/pseuds/Batfink
Summary: “Wait, what?”  Clint hissed.  “Shit!”  He turned to Casey.  “This is why you couldn't bring Romanoff.”  Suddenly his eyes widened.  “Wait, does that make me...”  He paused as Casey turned.  “My boyfriend.”  Casey purred leaning into Clint's personal space.  Clint gulped.  “It was all in the file.”  He whispered.  Lips up close to Clint's ear.





	Clint & Casey vs the CIA

The government big wigs had decided that SHIELD needed to get more involved with the other security agencies across the US. Despite SHIELD's agreement to work with any other agency that asked them to, so far no agency had taken them up on this, until...

 

“Hey.” Bucky nudged Clint's plate making him look up from his dinner. “Who's the spook with Coulson?”

Clint looked in the direction Bucky was pointing with his fork. “Holy shit!” He exclaimed. “That's Major John Casey. NSA.”

“You know him?” Bucky asked.

“Only by reputation. He's the kind of badass that makes the rest of us look like rookies.” Clint reached for his water glass.

“Wonder what he's doing here?” Bucky glanced Coulson's way again.

“Dunno.” Clint shrugged. “But somebody is about to have a very bad day.” He took a swig from his water.

“Shit, they're coming this way.” Bucky hissed quickly looking down at his plate.

“Agent Barton.” Coulson announced stopping beside their table. “Agent Barnes.”

Clint swallowed heavily, then groaned. “Coulson.” Bucky kept quiet beside him.

“Major Casey, meet Agents Barton and Barnes.” Coulson gestured from Clint to Bucky.

Major Casey eyed them suspiciously in turn. “These the best you've got?”

Coulson laughed. “Romanoff and May are the best we've got.” He ignored the joint protests of Clint and Bucky to continue. “But neither of them suit your requirements for this op.”

Casey huffed. “Fine. I'll take the one that hasn't worked for the Russians.” Clint and Bucky looked at each other.

“Umm...” Coulson began.

“Seriously!” Casey demanded. He huffed. “Fine, I'll take the blonde.” He threw a folder down onto Clint's plate. “We leave at 0600.” He snapped then turned on his heel and stalked away.

Coulson shrugged when Clint looked up at him. “You'll do fine, Clint.” He patted him on the shoulder. “I hear he's mellowed recently.”

Clint dropped his head into his hands as Coulson walked away. “What was that about a bad day?” Bucky chuckled from beside Clint, nudging his arm. Clint sighed and flipped open the folder. “Make that two days.” He informed Bucky after glancing at the projected time-line for the mission.

 

0558 saw Clint running through SHIELD HQ. His bow case in his left hand, his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder in his right hand. He bolted up the ramp onto the quinjet and skidded to a stop in front of a very annoyed looking Major Casey. Clint glanced at his watch. 0600. He turned a grin on Casey. “Right on time.”

Casey growled at him and stalked towards the front of the craft. “Let's go.” He informed the pilot who scrambled into action as Clint stashed his gear and got settled into a seat. He figured he had time for a nap before he needed to go over the file.

Clint jerked awake when someone punched his arm. “We land in five.” Casey yelled at him over the noise of the engines.

“Crap.” Clint muttered grabbing for the file out of his duffel bag.

Twenty minutes later saw them in a suite in a fancy hotel. They quickly changed into suits and as Casey slipped on his shoulder holster Clint turned to grab his bow case.

Casey glared at Clint's bow when he opened the case. “Don't you have a gun?”

Clint rolled his eyes and lifted up the base of the case to reveal two hand guns and a couple of pre-loaded clips. He lifted one of each out.

“What the hell is that?” Casey growled.

“It's a Sig.” Clint smirked at him.

“You brought that Commie piece of shit on purpose didn't you?” Casey narrowed his eyes at Clint and Clint laughed.

“Why yes I did and Germany isn't communist.” He loaded the clip into the gun as Casey grunted in disgust. “I changed my mind. Take the bow.”

Clint tucked the gun into his shoulder holster. “Nah, I'm good. So what have you got? Colt, S&W? It's a Desert Eagle isn't it?” Clint chuckled. Casey flipped his jacket aside. “Berretta, huh.” Clint raised an eyebrow. “How very continental.”

Casey smirked at him. “You're not the only one that likes to mess with people.”

Clint grabbed up his suit jacket and shrugged it on, flexing his shoulders as he saw Casey checking him out. “What?” He asked, buttoning up the jacket.

“Not bad.” Came Casey's gruff reply as he grabbed up the hotel room key cards. Clint raised an eyebrow and gave Casey the once over in return as he pocketed the card Casey held out to him. “Back atcha.”

“Come on then.” Casey headed for the door. “Let's go find some bad guys.” Clint laughed and followed him out.

When they got down to the lobby, Casey led Clint through the hotel until they came to the closed guarded doors of a function suite. Casey flashed an invitation and their fake IDs and they were allowed to enter.

Getting drinks from the bar, they turned to survey the other attendees.

They had been casually observing for about twenty minutes when Clint edged closer to Casey. “Uh, hey. Did you notice anything strange about this place?” He whispered.

“Like what?” Casey murmured at him.

“Well, like those guys over there.” Clint whispered flicking his head.

Casey glanced to where Clint had indicated. “Did you miss the part of the brief where this is a gay gentleman's club?” Casey asked. Glancing at Clint before turning back to surveying the room.

“Wait, what?” Clint hissed. “Shit!” He turned to Casey. “This is why you couldn't bring Romanoff.” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Wait, does that make me...” He paused as Casey turned. “My boyfriend.” Casey purred leaning into Clint's personal space. Clint gulped. “It was all in the file.” He whispered. Lips up close to Clint's ear.

“Shit.” Clint repeated with a shiver, cursing himself for getting talked into playing poker with Stark and Logan all night meaning he'd only had time to glance at the brief on the plane.

Casey stepped closer. “It's a good job you're pretty.” He slid his arm around Clint's waist as two men approached. “Just let me do the talking.” He hissed, lips back at Clint's ear making him shiver again.

Casey kept Clint close as they talked to the other men in the club, either with his arm around his waist or a loose grip on his hand. After about the fourth time of introducing themselves to various couples, Clint was pretty sure he had a handle of their back story, but still he kept quiet. He had noticed that with every couple they spoke to, one was always quieter than the other and he wasn't the only one that was just, as Casey had put it, 'looking pretty'.

Eventually, they found their mark. “Keep an eye on him.” Casey whispered leaning into Clint's side. Clint nodded and was careful not to let the guy out of his sight, casually moving Casey around the room to keep his line of sight clear.

 

“There's a guy over there that's been checking you out all night.” Casey informed Clint a few hours later pulling him in by the arm around his waist.

Clint surreptitiously glanced in the direction Casey had intimated and caught sight of a good looking man staring in their direction. He shifted closer to Casey. “Well, seems to me, that's something you should be worried about. Not me.”

“Is that right?” Casey replied. Fingers tightening on Clint's side.”

“Well, yeah.” Clint grinned turning and patting Casey on the chest. “He must think I can be lured away.”

Casey's grin turned evil. “We'll see about that.” He raised his other hand to Clint's waist and pulled them together. Clint's chest bumped against his and Casey tilted his head forward. “Close your eyes.” He whispered and Clint's eyes flickered shut. He felt the approach, but the touch of Casey's lips to his still surprised him and his lips parted on a gasp, hands coming up to grab Casey's shoulders as Casey's tongue swept into his mouth, plundering his tongue in heated sweeps.

“Huh.” Clint pulled back and stared at Casey while licking his lips. “Guess you aced seduction school.”

Casey grinned. “I ace everything.”

“Did it work?” Clint wanted to look but their mark was now on the other side of the room so he couldn't turn around.

“It worked.” Casey nodded.

“So, you wanna take your hand off my ass then?” Clint grinned at Casey.

“Nah, better keep it here.” He flexed his fingers. “Just in case.”

“Sure.” Clint smirked. “Better safe than sorry.”

They had been mingling for about another half an hour, Clint's gaze fixed on their mark as often as possible without risking being caught staring so he didn't immediately realise that Casey's gaze had been fixed on the hot blonde female waitress for an excessive amount of time. “Hey.” He nudged Casey's arm. “You forget the part where you're supposed to be gay?”

“Bi.” Casey corrected on a reflex which made Clint think there was more truth than cover in that statement.

“You're supposed to be with me, remember?” Clint put a hand to Casey's jaw and turned it until Casey was finally looking at him.

“Huh?” Casey asked.

“Fake boyfriend feeling neglected here.” Clint huffed. “Wanna stop checking out the waitress before you blow our cover?”

Casey frowned releasing his grip on Clint. “Why don't you go to the bar. Get us a couple of drinks.”

“I can't see the mark from there.” Clint replied.

“Don't worry about it.” Casey gave him a gentle push in the direction of the bar. “I'll catch up in a minute.”

Clint huffed and set off. As he rounded the corner towards the bar, he noticed Casey approaching the waitress.

Twenty minutes later, Casey joined Clint at the bar. He picked up the glass of bourbon Clint had gotten him and downed it in one. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

“What?” Clint asked confused. “Where's the mark?”

“Lost him.” Casey shrugged and headed for the door.

“The hell do you mean you lost him?” Clint hissed, hurrying after Casey's retreating form.

Casey grabbed his wrist. “Not now.” He growled and Clint was about to protest when he noticed they were being watched.

Damn it, Clint thought. Hopefully it could be passed off as a lover's tiff if they left now. Jerking his wrist free of Casey's hand, he pushed passed him and stormed from the room, leaving Casey to hurry after him.

Clint was fuming by the time they made it back to their room. He threw down his suit jacket. “What the hell was that?” He demanded. “You lose our mark so you can chat up that hot little waitress while risking your supposedly gay cover?”

“That hot little waitress, as you put it, is a CIA operative. I had to make sure she wasn't going to mess up our op.” Casey growled back at him.

“Well, great work there.” Clint snapped frustrated dropping his gun to the chair his jacket had landed on followed by his shoulder holster.

“You need to watch your attitude, Barton.” Casey advanced on Clint who didn't back up.

“Oh really?” Clint pulled himself up to his full height and glared at Casey. “Or what?”

Casey grabbed Clint by the front of his shirt and pulled him in close. “God you're infuriating.”

Clint put his hand to Casey's chest to stop their bodies colliding. “Yeah, well, you're an ass.” 

Casey smirked at him. “An ass? What are you twelve?”

“Fuck you.” Clint huffed as Casey continued to smirk at him fingers still curled in his shirt.

“Oh no.” Casey grinned and it was a feral sort of thing. “I'm gonna fuck you!” He tugged and Clint was jerked forwards the last few inches to press up against Casey's firm chest as Casey's other hand came up to cup the back of Clint's head.

Never one to relinquish his part of a situation spiralling out of control, Clint surged forwards and slammed their lips together.

After that, it was a tangle of teeth and torn clothes. Of groping hands and hot mouths as they pushed and pulled at each other until they were both naked and falling onto the bed limbs tangled together.

There was cursing and groaning as they writhed together each rubbing against the other, seeking their respective release.

 

Clint's eyes flickered open and he stretched pushing against Casey's side which earned him a grunt. “Not that this wasn't great.” Clint began. “But shouldn't we be trying to salvage this mission?”

Casey snorted and pushed back against Clint's shoulder until it was no longer digging into his side. “Nah. Figured we could let CIA chase him for a while.”

Clint turned his head to look up at Casey. “What, you plan on letting them do all the leg work and then swooping in for the pick-up at the last second?”

Casey grinned. “Why yes I do.”

“That's despicable.” Clint grinned.

“You wanna go look for him?” Casey asked.

Clint laughed. “Hell no. Screwing with the CIA is always fun.”

“You make a habit of it?” Casey enquired.

Clint shook his head. “Not nowadays. SHIELD doesn't have much time for the CIA. I have done in the past though.” He rolled onto his front and tilted his head up to look at Casey. “The name Aaron Cross mean anything to you?”

Casey thought for a moment. “Wasn't he part of the whole Jason Bourne fiasco?”

Clint nodded. “I was.”

Casey shuffled until he was sitting further up the bed so that he could look down at Clint more easily. “That was you?”

“In a previous life, yeah. Before SHIELD made me an offer I couldn't refuse.” Clint smiled fondly remembering his first meeting with Coulson.

“I always wondered what happened to Cross. Skills like that are too good to waste hiding in the wilds forever.” Casey frowned.

“John Casey, was that a compliment?” Clint feigned shocked surprise.

Casey snorted. “Never said you weren't talented. Only said you were infuriating.”

Clint laughed. “Back atcha Major.” He gave a cheeky salute.

Just then Casey's cell began to ring. He rolled out of bed, shamelessly naked and strolled over to dig it out of his suit trousers that had been thrown across the room. Clint smirked at the sight of Casey bending over before rolling himself out of the bed to dig out some clean clothes from his bag.

Clint couldn't make out words from the other side of the conversation but he could tell from the tone the guy was worked up about something. Casey let him ramble on, rolling his eyes until finally he had reached his limit. “Chuck!” He barked into the 'phone. The rambling immediately ceased. “What Sarah doesn't know. Sarah can't yell at you for. Just calm the fuck down and do it.” There was a squeak from the other end of the line that Clint took to be agreement and Casey ended the call. He started getting dressed, so Clint did likewise.

By the time they were both ready, Casey's cell had pinged with a location. Clint picked up his gun, which earned a growl from Casey. He smirked as he tucked it into the shoulder holster before pulling on his jacket.

They left the hotel and Clint followed Casey to an unmarked black van. Casey beeped the locks and hauled open the side door climbing inside. Clint followed him in, sliding the door closed behind himself. Casey pulled open a drawer and grabbed out a set of handcuffs. “Bit late now for the kinky stuff.” Clint chuckled as Casey turned towards him.

“Very funny.” Casey huffed, handing the cuffs to Clint before getting another set for himself. He then climbed through to the front and dropped into the drivers seat before pushing his cell into the holder on the windscreen, the map directions showing on screen.

Less than a mile later, Casey parked up the van and they set off on foot, skulking along the side of an office building.

“There.” Clint pointed to their mark, edging along the side of a warehouse across a vacant lot from them. “We taking him in or taking him out?” Clint cocked his gun as they edged onto the lot.

“CIA wants him in.” Casey replied, ducking for cover behind a rusted out car as Clint edged up behind a dumped sofa.

“So we're taking him out.” Clint chuckled.

Casey laughed. “Tempting, but best not. Paperwork would be a bitch.” He darted further across the lot, Clint following close behind.

“Good point.” Clint nodded. They were to the warehouse now and Casey indicated he would go right to get in front of the mark, while Clint went left to come up behind him. The CIA operative was nowhere in sight.

Clint ran down to intercept their mark. “Special Agent. Freeze.” He yelled cocking his gun. Naturally the guy ran, which was just what Clint had wanted. The guy sprinted the length of the building, turning his head constantly to look back at Clint who was jogging along behind him. Right as the mark reached the edge of the building, he turned to look back at Clint and therefore didn't see the arm that shot out catching him across the chest. His body stopped dead, feet still moving and he was airborne briefly before crashing to the ground. Casey stood over him, not even bothering to pull his gun as Clint sauntered over to them. “I love it when they're dumb.” Casey grinned hauling the guy to his feet. Clint slapped the cuffs on him and Casey dragged him to the van. Clint following behind.

They stuffed the guy in the back of the van, Casey using his cuffs to fasten the guys cuffs to a metal loop welded to the side before he and Clint climbed up front. Casey pulled out his cell as he settled into the drivers seat. “Yeah, we got him. I'll expect the angry calls in ten.” He winked at Clint as he ended the call and started the engine.

Ten minutes later, almost to the second his cell began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket and thrust it at Clint. “Do. Not. Answer.”

Clint swiped the reject call and then turned off the ringer. In the fifteen minutes it took to get the mark to the hand off, Clint rejected seventy-two calls and saw fifty-eight texts regarding voicemails. His own, rang once. “Coulson.” He informed Casey before answering on speaker-phone.

“Sounds like you guys have been having fun.” Coulson began sounding amused.

“You could say that.” Clint replied.

“You know you're not supposed to play with the CIA agents.” Coulson admonished.

“You know I can't resist.” Clint chuckled.

“I knew when I sent you this was going to cause me grief.” Coulson huffed. “Do yourselves a favour, don't answer any calls from anyone else and get your butts back here pronto.”

“We already figured that one.” Clint laughed. “We're on our way to the jet now.”

 

Clint led Casey to Coulson's office when they got back to SHIELD HQ. “You know the director of the CIA yelled at me for ten minutes straight.” Coulson told them as soon as they were in his office. “Don't think he even took a breath. By the end of it he was so red you could have used him as a jack-o-lantern.” Coulson smirked.

“Is this the part where you tear us a new one?” Casey asked.

“Yes.” Coulson nodded, trying to look stern. “Very bad. Teamwork. Inter-agency. Co-operation. Orders, Hierarchy, yadda, yadda, blah blah. Don't do it again.”

Casey raised an eyebrow as Clint tried to look repentant. The trying not to laugh kinda ruined it though.

“You got him. Good work. Clint, you're needed up at ATF. Major Casey, as you were.” Coulson nodded and went back to his paperwork. Clint looked at Casey and then they both turned and left Coulson's office.

“One for the road?” Clint asked as he pulled Coulson's door shut behind them.

Casey paused and eyed him for a moment then smiled the mad dog smile. “Why the hell not.”

Clint turned and led them down a few corridors to where his room was.

 

Clint was face down on his pillow when his cell rang. He scrabbled about for it, knocking his alarm to the floor before snatching it up and pressing it to his ear.

“You're still in the building.” Coulson stated in lieu of a hello.

“Uh yeah.” Clint mumbled. “Needed a nap.”

Coulson snorted. “Uh-huh. Tell Casey, Beckman is looking for him.”

“Sure.” Clint replied but Coulson had already disconnected. Clint turned his head and nudged Casey. “Beckman is after you.”

Casey grunted but didn't move.

“You get the same speech Coulson gave?” Clint asked.

“Yeah.” Casey nodded, eyes still shut. “Except she'll give the whole actual speech before patting me on the head and saying 'good job'.” He finally moved, sitting up and snatching up his boxers.

When they were both re-dressed Clint followed Casey out to his jet. “Nice working with you, Barton.” Casey smirked holding out his hand.

“You too, Major.” Clint shook the proffered hand.

Casey boarded the jet and when Clint turned to walk away Bucky was right behind him.

“Fuck!” Clint exclaimed. “Where the hell did you spring from?”

Bucky chuckled. “How were your very bad days?”

Clint tried not to smile. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“But you are going to tell me, right?” Bucky asked.

Clint glanced back to the jet that was just lifting out of the hanger. “Nah.” He grinned before turning to leave. “Don't think I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I made a new pairing... go me XD


End file.
